


No One Fights Alone

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: 2x04, Brotherly Love, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e04 X-Ray + Penny, Friendship, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 01:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16588052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: Jack had long foreseen the reaction Mac would experience after torture at the hands of Murdoc.





	No One Fights Alone

After Murdoc got away, Jack wouldn’t let Mac out of his sight. Nor would he let Mac go home – it was just a recipe for disaster. Not only had Mac been kidnapped from his own home, but he had been tased rather unpleasantly in his own entry way. Jack would hear none of it from Mac, who rebelled the idea.

“I’m fine, Jack!”

Jack scowled, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “He ambushed you in your own home, Mac! That psychopath is still on the loose! I’m taking you someplace safe for at least tonight.”

Mac had slumped down in the passenger seat, sulking. He knew he was being a child, but all he wanted to do was go home, shower, and go to bed. First it had been jet lag making him tired, then Murdoc had tased him, drugged him, and willingly tortured him (for a hot second), and then it was an endless sea of medical staff, worried Jack and Bozer. Cage had been able to center him, but Murdoc’s torturous face had spooked him, even though the bastard asshole hadn’t been around. The whole ordeal was going to leave a lasting impression on him – and Mac hated it, with an undying passion.

In the end, Mac eventually agreed to let his best friend take him back to his condo.

Jack had just gotten to close his eyes from his watch spot in the hallway, assuring Mac was sound asleep in the guest bedroom, when the first of what was going to become a long night of screams and revelations occurred. Mac had been whimpering, struggling to wake up from Murdoc’s games in his mind, when he shot up out of bed and screamed. If Jack had been paying attention, he would have watched the clock strike midnight thirty when the first nightmare hit, and the last nightmare wouldn’t abate until seven the next morning.

Jumping from his overwatch chair, Jack sprinted into the bedroom, hands reaching for Mac’s face almost instinctively, cupping his best friend’s face. “Wow, buddy, you’re okay. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Mac let out a ragged breath, hands reaching for Jack’s Metallic shirt and twisting the fabric between shaking fingers. “J-J-Jack…” He couldn’t speak properly, his mind racing from only the first of many nightmares to come.

“You’re safe. No Murdoc. No torture. You’re in my guest bedroom. You’re okay.” Jack was trying to soothe his kid, but he could tell Mac was struggling to get the images out of his head. “Don’t be afraid to talk about it, kid. I’m here to listen.”

Mac shook his head, biting his lip and sucking a deep breath through his nose. “Couldn’t breathe – he was choking me and – and – and then – and –“ He couldn’t get it out. Couldn’t speak what was right there in his mind, in front of his eyes, all over his _body_.

Jack gently moved his hands to Mac’s shoulders, giving a slight squeeze. “It’s okay, Mac. Take your time.”

Blinking rapidly, Mac shuddered, jerking from Jack’s grip. “Knives… so much blood…” Instinctively, he curled himself forward, breath hitching in his chest. All he could see was red and black and spots and _pain_.

Jack swallowed hard. He knew this was going to happen. Mac had been drugged and mentally tortured at the hands of Murdoc – this was the most reasonable of responses. Sure, Mac hadn’t been extensively physically tortured, but it had been coming, and Mac had a vivid imagination. It just happened that his imagination ran away with him when he tried to catch some shut eye after a long and weary day filled with pain, drugs, and frustration.

“Let’s lie down again, okay, Mac?” Jack didn’t touch his kid again, but guided him back under the twisted sheet, draping him with the blanket that had fallen haphazardly to the ground. Mac turned away from Jack, arms curled around his torso, his eyes closed and lungs still breathing a mile a minute. Carefully easing himself to the ground beside the bed, Jack laid a hand on the blanket, but not on Mac, watching, waiting, and listening. Mac’s breathing eventually evened out as Jack’s eyes started to droop again. But he didn’t move from his spot. He knew more was to come.

Mac found himself back in that dark room, back in that cold metal chair, handcuffs looping his wrists and intravenous nightshade dripping into his veins. His mind was fuzzy, his body reacting poorly to the poison. His head lolled, even as Murdoc descended the stairs, Mac’s Swiss army knife firmly in hand.

“Oh, MacGyver. I have waited for this day for so long.”

Mac didn’t speak, his brain swirling. He felt the glare his eyes were throwing, but it was the only bit of defiance left in him. He watched with blurry vision as Murdoc flipped open the bottle opener on his Swiss army knife, lovingly caressing it with elongated fingers clothed in black leather.

“Pain is but of the mind, my young friend. So this should be quite the entertainment,” he whispered, teasing, bringing the sharpened point closer and closer to Mac’s left shoulder.

Mac jerked, hoping to catch Murdoc off guard. It was to no avail. The bottle opener slammed into his shoulder and Mac let out a weak cry, muscles ripping and bones crunching as Murdoc dug the weapon into his enemy’s flesh.

And then it was all over. The weapon was gone, but the pain continued to throb, coursing down Mac’s left arm, his fingers growing slowly numb. Blood slowly seeped into his shirt, soaking into the thin fabric and then dripping down, down, down…

He was caught off guard when Murdoc slapped him upside the head, ears ringing from the hit.

“Wakey, wakey, little ANGUS!”

A sharp pain grew and grew until it burst into singeing pain in his right leg, until all Mac could do was scream. _Why?!!!! WHY?!!!!_

The real world heard Mac’s bleeding scream, Jack alert and awake before Mac had even started to move, thrashing in bed, arms flailing.

Carefully reaching over, Jack took Mac’s hands in his own, squeezing. “MAC!”

His kid screamed, hands jerking to be free. “NO, NO, NO, PLEASE NO!”

Jack stood, clutching Mac’s hands. “Come on, kid, wake up. It’s okay. You’re okay!”

Failing desperately to escape whatever hell hole he’d ended up in, Mac screamed until he couldn’t anymore, his legs kicking out, knocking into Jack’s firm stance.

Jack took it with ease, bending down and moving a hand to softly move hair out of Mac’s eyes. “I’m here, Mac. You just gotta wake up, okay? No Murdoc. No pain. No torture. No – no poison,” Jack’s voice cracked on the last word, hoping, praying even to the Big Guy upstairs that relief would come to his boy. Mac didn’t deserve this hell. He was too young to have seen and experienced as much pain and suffering as he had.

Mac had tears in his eyes as he finally came to, breathing ragged and strained. His voice sobbed in fear and anguish, the nightmare too real in his bones, within his senses, invading his body _everywhere_.

“I gotcha ya,” Jack whispered, running a gentle hand down Mac’s swear-soaked face.

Mac didn’t speak, eventually shutting his eyes and falling back into troubled sleep. Jack, still standing, still watching over his sleeping genius, sighed quietly. It was a bad night – and he had seen it coming from a hundred miles away.

Unfortunately, the pattern continued, every hour a new nightmare eclipsing the horror of the last one. Jack feared the nightshade poisoning hadn’t fully cleared from Mac’s system, enhancing the mind’s ability to create fear, especially after such a traumatic event at the hands of his sworn enemy.

Seven in the morning came knocking too quickly, but also too slowly, after chasing nightmare after nightmare. Jack had so believed the worst was over, his body aching as he lay on the ground by the guest bed, listening carefully to Mac’s shallow breathing. But Jack knew that he had thought too soon, the inevitable crashing through the room.

Mac let out a hoarse scream, his voice spent from the night of chasing shadows and feeling knives, screwdrivers, and hands all over his body. He had experienced more than enough sensory overload during the night to last a lifetime. He thrashed in bed, trying desperately to sit up and _get out_. Jack was up and at the ready, hands out to steady his best friend.

And then it was over, Mac’s scream dying out as his body tired out quickly, eyes lidded and glassy. Jack rubbed a hand over Mac’s chest, speaking soft words of encouragement.

Mac took a sharp breath, a single tear slipping from his right eye. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice worn and scratchy. He knew it had been an all-night affair, the nightmares keeping Jack up. It was why he had rebelled on coming and staying with him. He knew this would happen. Bozer – bless him – would have ran into his room once, maybe twice, but eventually let Mac ride them out on his own. Jack – he was too good for his own wellbeing, for his own soul, staying by Mac’s side through every single torturous element flickering through his brain. None of it was real – but it felt so real. His bones ached, his muscles spasmed, and his brain felt heavy. Maybe – just maybe – he was dying. Not that he would wish to die, but it seemed a far cry better than his brain conjuring up torture after torture at the hands of Murdoc.

He shivered, pulling the blanket closer to his chin. “I’m sorry.” It was whispered again with such a quiet nature that Jack almost didn’t hear it, didn’t see but the twitch of Mac’s lips.

Jack sat heavily at the edge of the bed, his strong hands gripping Mac’s. “I would never have left you to fight this yourself. You went through a terrible incident, and this was the logical reaction. It’s okay to not be okay.”

Mac nodded slowly, shutting his eyes fully. He felt – broken, hollow, undone. Murdoc had played his mind games and won. Physical torture notwithstanding.

“I’ll be by your side no matter what,” Jack whispered, coming to lie beside his friend and wrapping him up in a tight hug. “We do this together or not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Has this been done? Probably. However, this is my take on it. Also, the epic bromance of Jack and Mac *heart eyes*
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Proof read vaguely. I don't own MacGyver or associated characters *sigh*
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love, Danielle


End file.
